


Dirty Laundry

by DistantStar



Series: Hello Clarke [1]
Category: clexa - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Clarke, Bottom Lexa, F/F, Lexa likes World of Warcraft, Reincarnation, Smut, Soulmates, Squirting, Top Clarke, Top Lexa, clarke is a celebrity but we don't know what she does, druid!lexa, f/f sex, hello Clarke, i did it for my people, it is explicit, oh they can do both, one gets tied up, smut and more smut, the rating is real, to my All Blood is Red Readers this is an entirely new ball game, turn back now if you don't want to read this type of content, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 00:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10674207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStar/pseuds/DistantStar
Summary: 3:07 in the morning, the middle of a rainstorm.Clarke is awake at this ungodly hour and in the laundry room, having to re-wash her clothes. But it seems she isn't the only one wanting to do her laundry.  And the other girl? She dares to demand the washer Clarke is sitting on is 'her' washer.





	1. Not Everyone does their Laundry at 3:07 a.m.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a/n: please check out my Tumblr for **more** of my writing.)  
>  adistantstarblog.tumblr.com

Doing laundry was one of the necessary evils in life. Clarke was sure of this. She had an appointment in the morning, specifically, an appointment later that morning at 7:35, and it was currently 3:07. But still, a muddy dunking in a river from a lost match against Octavia had ruined all of her wearable laundry. She should not have had the basket of clothes with her in the first place from the first time she had already washed them earlier in the day. Some of it may have gone missing in the water. So now she was sat on the farthest washer at the end of the building laundry room, again, washing what was left. She used this one, each time she did laundry. And she was dead tired. At least she'd washed and dried half of it again already, she glanced at the basket of clean clothes down on the floor. Who was she kidding? This was going to take the rest of the night. Clarke tugged the tie out of her hair because it was starting to give her a headache. 

Then again maybe it was not the hair-tie? Maybe it was the drink that Octavia and Raven had given her to make up for this? They even sent her here with a band new bottle. But she hadn't even touched it. She glanced over at it on the set of washers across from hers. Nope, the bottle of skittles vodka, complete with the red wrapper, was still there unopened. They apparently had this drink created specifically for her. 

The door burst open suddenly, a burst of wind came in, throwing the door wider and so did the rain from outside. A girl came in with that rain, in a long coat with swords on her back, long brown hair sticking wetly to her face and body and she was carrying what looked like a linen sack full that was stuffed full of presumably clothing. Black paint of some kind dripped down her face like a mask. And she struggled into the room snarling, dropping her bag to close the door. Which she did close with a slam. Picking up her bag again she turned around and finally, their eyes met. And startled the strange girl stood still where she was. She took Clarke in. 

Clarke took her in as well. She wasn't expecting anyone else to be in here at this time of morning. She wasn't expecting anyone else to maybe be as stupid as she had been to try and wash clean clothes in a storm. And yet a strange girl was looking at her as though she was an alien, or someone that lived in space at least, maybe on a space-station over the Earth? At least, she was staring at her as though she didn't belong on this planet. This made Clarke smile, “hi.” she greeted, “I'm Clarke,” she glanced toward the windows and then looked back at the stunned and very rain-soaked girl, “a little wet out there isn't it?” 

Finally, the girl seemed to snap out of it, “hi. That is my washer.” 

“Your washer?” Clarke asked, looking down at it. She couldn't help but blink. She couldn't help but laugh just a little. Because surely, never in her life had she seen someone quite as out of place and suddenly adorable as this girl with the raccoon eyes. Clarke decided to tease her a bit, “does it have your name on it?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder to look at the brand of the machine, “Hotpoint, yeah? That is your name?” to be honest, the soaked girl did look pretty hot. Hotpoint it was. 

“My name is Lexa.” Hotpoint remarked, dryly, despite her wet countenance. And finally she came over to stand at the washer in front of Clarke, “I always use this washer.” 

“Strange,” Clarke murmured, “so do I. Hey so, you in a play or something? Drama group? Are you a thespian, Lexa? Because your makeup is a little...” Clarke edged the word in, “drippy.” 

“Drippy?” Lexa raised an eyebrow at her, “and I am not a thespian, I'm a Lesbian. Also,” she let the bag drop with a wet plop to the floor, “I'm a druid.” 

“A druid?” Clarke asked doubtfully. She smirked though a little in amusement. Someone tonight must have had quite a bit to drink, and it wasn't her, no. Her drink was still unopened over on the other washer. She checked again to be sure. And yes, it was still there. She shrugged a little even if it was the most idiotic story she had ever heard. It was original. She had to give Lexa that. Clarke decided to play along, “is that why you paint your face? Because you're a druid.” 

“Oh no, its just terribly comfortable,” Lexa replied without missing a beat, “I think everyone will be doing it in the future.”* 

Clarke couldn't help then but furrow her brow. Because she was quite certain she had heard that exact line before. Well, almost that exact line before. She was pretty sure it was something from a movie. 

“Lexa?” Clarke asked, but when she did she realized she did not have anything else to say. 

“Clarke?” 

Clarke just smiled. Just the way Lexa said her name, wrapping her tongue around it the way she did, like a caress, was suddenly enough to make her insides start to tie themselves in knots – as though her body knew something she did not remember. But it was something triggered by the sound of her name. 

Lexa moved toward her then. As she closed the space she looked at Clarke more intently and then was right there, in front of her, as she sat on the washer, body leaning into its metal, her eyes appraising her face as she asked, “are you okay?” 

“I, uh...” Clarke felt herself nodding. She felt her heart slamming into her ribs even faster, and she felt her fingers grip the sides of the washer as Lexa studied her eyes, and then her lips, as, for long seconds, Lexa's eyes stayed on her lips. Then she lifted a shaking hand and gently ran her thumb across them, causing them to tremble, causing them to shake. Causing Clarke to gasp and start to shiver all over as though, oh yes, she thought, her body knew something that she did not. 

Looking right up into her eyes, Lexa ran her thumb over Clarke's lips again and the soft sensation was like a strong order, an order to make her legs jelly, her thighs damp and an order that made her suddenly grab at Lexa's shoulders, “what are you doing?” she asked against Lexa's neck. It was hard to remember, very hard to remember as warm arms closed around her, hands tangled up into her hair at the base of her neck and a face buried in her throat and she felt soft warm lips start sucking at her throat though they had just met. And even though she was struggling for breath under these ministrations, and even though her own arms were twisting around Lexa's slender neck and tangling tight into the wet curls of her hair she still managed to whisper again, “what are you doing?” 

“I came here to see you,” Lexa bit at her neck, making it sting just a little before sucking the flesh gently with her lips, “but I only have a few minutes for now.” 

“A.. a..few..” Clarke tried to speak but Lexa had stepped back and warm hands were sliding intently, slowly up the insides of her thighs. Slipping further and further until they pushed up the flat of her stomach to curl at the edge of her pants. That was when they stopped. That was when green beautiful eyes full of a storm of so many buried emotions locked behind shields of a silence of words that would never be heard. This was a question. This was a question Lexa was asking; if this was okay? Could she do this to her? 

And Clarke? All she could see was there was a lifetime hiding in those eyes. All she could see was longing and love. And she felt herself nodding, quickly. Because all she felt suddenly under those warm hands was where she belonged. The smile that crossed the serious face made Lexa so breathtaking that she Clarke had to slip her hand loose from the back of her neck, into the lower strands of wet brown hair. It made her tug her closer by the mass of hair she clutched in her hand. It made her desperate, and it made her want to kiss her. Clarke tugged again pulling Lexa's soft lips to her mouth. She felt Lexa's chuckle when their lips brushed together and as the kiss went from tentative, to sure to desperate she brought her free hand up to the back of Lexa's head to steady it and hold it in place. She needed to kiss this girl. She needed her lips to part. And right as the thought went through Clarke's mind Lexa's lips did separate, Lexa's tongue reached for hers and touched. 

Only when the wet velvet of Lexa's tongue was inside her mouth, did Clarke finally really breathe. Clarke sucked on it, listening to the little grunt it caused Lexa to let out, enjoying how it caused Lexa to slam her hips against the washer causing a loud, metallic bang to take over the noise of the working machine and echo through the room. Clarke parted their lips only long enough to breathe, using Lexa's body, her forehead for support, before looking up into eyes so close to hers again. Lexa smiled at her softly with purple lips. She lifted a hand from her pants and trailed her fingertips down Clarke's face, “you have my paint on..” but the words were cut short because Clarke brought both her hands up to the back of Lexa's head, pulled her forward and sucked on her lips. 

Lexa groaned again, she slammed her hips into the washer again. This made Clarke grin against her mouth, "and you're abusing a washing machine," she accused even when Lexa parted her lips for her, even when Clarke slipped her tongue into the sweet mouth she was kissing. 

It made Lexa reach down. It made her grab behind Clarke's knees. It made her grind into the washer. The metallic echo from her all but humping the machine was mixed with the noise from wet kissing, the panting that escaped when the need for breath took over, and the rumble of thunder outside. 

Lexa's hands moved up Clarke's legs again. She felt thumbs brushing at the seam of her pants between her thighs, up and down again, up and down again, “please...” Lexa whispered the word from the back of her throat into Clarke's mouth. It made Clarke look up in time to see Lexa's head tipped back, her eyelids closed and fluttering slightly. And the press of thumbs grew a little firmer and faster up and down between her legs. Lexa tucked her head in and started working her hips faster, "Beja, Klark..” 

Clarke was suddenly wet. It was more than just the thumbs. This girl, getting herself on on a washing machine in front of her, desperate for her, was a Goddess. 

“Okay,” Clarke breathed. The eyes snapped open to stare into hers. But Clarke's hands were already pushing at the long coat, trying to get it back and off of Lexa. But it was a struggle that was in vain because she couldn't do it with the swords strapped to Lexa's back and the thumbs rubbing desperately up and down at the wet spot appearing between Clarke's legs did not help-- 

She tugged at the hem of Lexa's shirt. It was loose. It would go up. Her hand slid between the wet fabric of the shirt and up smooth skin under the edge of a cloth wrap barrier until it found a warm breast. She squeezed. She looked up at Lexa's face as she did in time to see her eyes scrunch up and her lips and teeth release a low growl.. 

And all Clarke could think was just three words:

Oh. My. God.

(tbc..)

(*from the movie 'the Princess Bride')


	2. Hotpoint It Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little more involved with that Washing Machine...  
> Very Explicit. (Did I mention it's very explicit?) 
> 
>  

Clarke chuckled, “you like this?” she asked. She ran her thumb around a smooth nipple again and again and again and when she did that, it made the hands between her legs scrabble upward and start undoing her belt. Clarke felt her pants open, but she pushed Lexa's shirt up. She felt her pants being opened but her eyes were on the cloth wrapped around Lexa's chest. She felt her pants being tugged at but Clarke caught that cloth in her teeth and quickly pulled it down. 

Air hitting Lexa's breasts made her gasp out as though it shocked her. It made her freeze her motions with her hands buried deep in the opened waistband of Clarke's pants, not quite at their destination. It made her rub hard against the washer and lock her body to hold the pressure in place between her legs. But Clarke could only stare at the beauty in front of her, pert and perfect breasts were in front of her face. Quickly as she could, ending that frozen moment, she sucked the left one halfway into her mouth. Lexa cried out and jerked at the same time. Clarke wrapped an arm around her back to steady her. It was as if this girl knew what she was doing, and yet was desperate as though she had never been touched... 

“Klark!” Lexa's fingers dug southward again. 

The noise of the washer still washing her clothes was rattling and rumbling beneath them. Lightening flashed white highlighting the hard rain outside the windows. Thunder clapped as Lexa's fingers found what she was looking for in Clarke's pants, Clarke jerked as she felt practiced fingers spread her and start an incessant search of wet flesh. 

“You are so wet, Clarke..” Lexa's voice was both harsh, but soft in the air. Clarke rolled her eyes upward to see the bottom of Lexa's chin, to watch the movement of her hair and body as she worked her fingers, teasing her, looking up into her eyes and then down into her pants a couple of times as she pinched and teased at her clit. 

Thunder crashed. 

Lights went out, plunging them into darkness. 

The washer rattled to a stop under them with the loss of the power. 

But the noise had not stopped. The little sloppy sounds sneaking through Clarke's lips kept on. The little desperate grunts leaving Lexa's, and the sound of metal echoing like a drum as she ground into the now other-wise silent machine this encounter had started because of. 

Lexa's fingers were suddenly sliding up her stomach quickly, leaving wet traces on her skin. It caused Clarke to grunt in her throat and let go of the nipple she'd been sucking, “what...” she asked as it slipped from her mouth... 

“Turn over..” Lexa growled in the dark. Wet fingers dug into Clarke's hips. In the flashes of lightning from outside, she saw breasts hanging in her face. But hands tugged at her, they slipped between her legs and back to her hips and tugged trying to turn her over. She felt her mouth go dry as she listened and turned onto her stomach on the washer. 

She gripped it. She buried her head into the metal machine lid as Lexa started to grind against her ass. The rubbing, the desperate grunts, only served to wet her more. Clarke cried out at this not-so-dry humping, just once, unexpectedly, but it made Lexa grab her hips tightly and do it more, “Lexa...” Clarke gasped. The jelly feeling started in her thighs, just from this, “Lexa!” she called more desperately, daring to lift a hand to grab at the elbow of the girl grinding desperately on her ass. 

“She only grunted in answer and lifted her hips higher, causing Clarke to lift her ass for her. This made Lexa call out, “Jok ai!” 

Clarke was grinding her teeth in her mouth, noises escaping her. She pushed back anyway. She wanted this. It felt so good. In the back of her mind, she knew she was being taken on a washer in a power outage in a storm by a strange girl, “Lexa...” 

“Yes, Clarke?” Lexa asked her, “yes...” a hand moved from her hip and scrambled at the front of her pants again. Clarke felt the grinding stop just for a second as her pants came down, her wet underwear sliding down with them. Then Lexa's body pulled away just a bit, leaving her trembling and shuddering bent over the washer. 

But she felt Lexa's eyes staring at her. It made her want to fidget. 

“Don't move Klark,” Lexa's voice said softly, but it was also dry with lust and a hint of emotion, “you are beautiful, and I want to remember this.” 

“Lexa...” Clarke whispered into the dark and the flashes of light from outside, the heat of the other girl's stare made a trail of wet liquid roll down Clarke's thigh. She had never so strongly felt the caress of someone's eyes on her, on her body, on that trail of wetness that was now rolling past her knee, and on the wet place it came from that felt hot and achy between her legs. 

In answer, Clarke heard only thunder rumble out in the stormy night. She thought she heard the shuffle of cloth in the dark. Then she felt Lexa kneel quickly just behind her, she felt warm hands tighten on her thighs. A face pushed into her folds and she felt a warm mouth open and start to lick and suck. 

Clarke's limbs were jelly instantly. Lexa's tongue swirled and stabbed into her most private wet parts and she had to scrabble fast to hold the washer so she would not fall off it onto the girl who's face was buried and sucking between her legs, who's hands were skimming slowly up and down her thighs, rubbing the newly forming wet trails dripping down them into her skin. Whose warm tongue licked at her clit, licked and licked and stroked at it as though it were a candy. This made Clarke's body jolt with each lick. This made her clasp the washer harder, “Lexa..” 

“That's it, Klarke,” the words were spoken against Clarke's wet opening. A fingertip teased around and around it, “that's it..” 

The finger pushed in. 

Clarke lifted her neck and yelped. 

Lexa pulled it out and then in again, out and then in. Then she started to fuck her with it fast and hard, “that's it, Klark,” she said again, pushing to her feet she wrapped a tight arm around Clarke's squirming belly to hold her in place as she lent over her, “just let me fuck you..” 

“Yes,” was all Clarke could manage through locked teeth. Her body pushed back to the finger it was receiving again and again and again. It pushed back into the pleasure being created between her legs. 

In the dark, she heard Lexa grunting each time she buried her finger in. She heard the wet sounds between her legs. A second finger went in and out of her joining the first. Clarke couldn't help it, “Lexa!” she cried, she scrabbled for a tighter hold as the girl's thrusting wrist.. “oh..” 

Lexa's reply was a low growl and to fuck her fingers in deeper and harder. She moved behind Clarke, in one hand deftly caught both Clarke's wrists, held her hands into the small of her back and started humping against her -now bare- ass again. Wet lips trailed down Clarke's spine, gentle despite the hard fucking. Clarke started clenching, with this. It started between her legs, the clenching and aching.. fingers still shoved into her. Lips still kissed and sucked at her spine. She felt a wet tongue trail down her back, “now?” 

The ache burst with the wet tongue. And her body was shaking, “oh God!” Clarke shouted out. She barely even nodded. Fingers yanked out as a warm liquid was forced from her body. It went all over everything, all over the floor, all over her legs, all over Lexa.. 

She heard herself panting. And then Lexa was kneeling and gently licking and sucking at the wet flesh of her thighs and between them as Clarke came back down. In the dark, there was finally utter silence and flashing lightning. The storm outside almost over. 

Clarke stayed how she was, over the washer long stopped. Her brain was still buzzing softly with pure pleasure, with pure delight, with ..love.. for the girl who was gently releasing her, who was standing up, and leaning down to look into Clarke's eyes. That was the piece of the world that Clarke saw first, beautiful green eyes looking right into hers. A hand rubbed gently up and down her back that was covered by her shirt still, even if the lower half was soaked. Lexa kissed her tenderly, “are you okay?” lips whispered onto hers. 

Clarke just nodded at her. She could not speak, yet. 

“I don't ever want to hurt you, Clarke.” Clarke just stared at her. As she did memories slammed in. Memories of this girl from so many dreams; dreams of other lives and places they had lived, families they had made, battles they had fought and won or even lost. There were so so many dreams of this girl flooding her head. But were they dreams? Were they? How could they be with beautiful eyes that carried the green of the forest staring into hers? Eyes that said ..so much. So much about Lexa had always been said with her eyes, not with her words. 

This was Lexa. Her Lexa. Clarke exhaled softly. She did not want to break this spell. Especially if it was not real. 

But Lexa was stepping away, but not far. She was removing the swords and starting to unfasten her coat, “we should take you home. We will put my coat on you to cover you with..” 

Yes. This was Lexa. 

For a moment, time stilled. For a moment as she remembered everything, it felt like waves crashing into a shore. 

Clarke felt her breath catch as she watched the hands that had just fucked her work at buckles on the coat. She pushed up from the washer. She reached for her soaked pants and pulled them up, “Lexa?...” she was dizzy, and only partly from the fucking. 

Lexa stopped what she was doing and looked up, “yes, Clarke?” 

“What are we doing?” she asked suddenly, looking around them, “what are we doing here?” 

“Well,” Lexa smirked and looked at the washer in the dark, “I'd have to say, having sex?” she looked at Clarke again. But Clarke was stupefied. All she could do was reach out. All she could do was grab the back of Lexa's head, and all she could do was tug her forward with it until her lips were against Lexa's soft -and still opened from surprise- mouth. 

Clarke took advantage of that. She pushed her tongue through parted lips immediately. She tasted herself in Lexa's mouth. It made her moan. It made her groan out. And when Lexa's hands lifted into her hair and started kissing her back by circling Clarke's tongue with her own warm one ..it made Clarke stutter and pull away. 

It also made her grab Lexa by the shoulders and back her against the washer they had just ..used. 

“Clarke..” Lexa asked hands curled at Clarke's neck she searched Clarke's eyes for traces of ..something. 

“Up,” Clarke answered, tugging at Lexa's knees she lifted her to the washer. Lexa obeyed her. She lifted her hips and let Clarke slide her pants down. Lightening flashed in the dark as they came down her legs. Clarke pulled one boot off after the other and dropped them, and the pants, onto the floor. Allowing Clarke to see for a second Lexa was hiding slick heat between her legs. Wetness that shimmered on thighs in a flash of light from outside. With a staccato movement in the dark Clarke ripped her eyes to Lexa's face. She was staring at her, a green eyed-goddess staring at her with trusting and dilated emerald eyes. One that wanted her. Badly. 

Clarke looked down from those eyes. Lexa's breasts were heaving under her shirt. She slid her hands up that shirt again. She moved her body forward to push Lexa's legs apart as she did and at the same time, leaned in close to Lexa's face and squeezed her breasts, “I don't understand but I know you and I've never met you at the same time.” 

“Do not try,” Lexa's answer was quick. She looked around them so briefly, “the time is almost up for now.” 

(t.b.c.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a/n: please check out my Tumblr for **more** of my writing.)  
>  adistantstarblog.tumblr.com


	3. The Spin Cycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a Druid is not all that it's cracked up to be. Oh, and there is a guy fixing a washer...

Clarke looked down from those eyes. Lexa's breasts were heaving under her shirt. She slid her hands up that shirt again. She moved her body forward to push Lexa's legs apart as she did and at the same time, leaned in close to Lexa's face and squeezed her breasts, “I don't understand but I know you and I've never met you at the same time.”

 “Do not try,” Lexa's answer was quick. She looked around them so briefly, “the time is almost up for now.”

 “I will take each second we have..” Clarke whispered back to her. She pulled her hands out from under the shirt, “Lexa..”

“Clarke?”

 “I love you.” Clarke let the words escape her this time, this time when she had the chance where so many times ..she never said them.

 “I love you too.” Lexa sounded strangled.

 Lexa, had even fewer chances to say it than she had. And Clarke couldn't breathe, then. But her eyes were wet. Her eyes were wet and her chest ached with the hurt that this was not going to last, and with a tender ache that they were here even if for a minute. She didn't have time. She didn't have time. She took in the sight of Lexa laying there naked from the waist down on a metal washer still wet from herself. Clarke moved fast. She tightened both of her hands at the hem of Lexa's shirt and, pulled hard as she could and ripped the fabric open. Lightening lit up Lexa's now bared body, “you're beautiful.” Clarke whispered.

 Lexa lifted trembling fingers to Clarke's clothed breasts, “please...” squeezing gently she lifted her eyes to Clarke's.

 Clarke was nodding. She pulled back only for a second, only long enough to pull her shirt over her head. While she did, Lexa scrambled up better to sit better on the washer. Then she grabbed Clarke to her by snaking an arm about Clarke's waist. And then, Lexa's face was buried in her breasts.

 Clarke felt herself stumble and had to catch herself on the washer when Lexa's bruised lips found a nipple and began to suck, “oh God,” Clarke panted. Both her hands came up and tangled in Lexa's hair, “oh. God..” she ground her eyes shut tight. She had missed this. She had missed Lexa sucking on her breasts. She slid her hands down to Lexa's lithe waist and tucked her chin against drying hair. Truth was ..she missed Lexa.

 But Lexa's lips were making her tremble. They were making it hard to stay standing up and she had to lean into the washing machine for support. As she did, she caught sight of her basket of laundry that had already been washed and dried at her feet. This close to their activities, she was going to have to wash all of it again. Still, she reached down, fast, making Lexa stop her sucking and twist her neck and face in surprise after her breasts that had pulled out of her lips. Clarke though grabbed up the soft white belt from her bathrobe and straightened, at the same time she used her other hand to push Lexa back down onto the top of the washer.

 Clarke held the belt up like a prize, “all the better to tie you with.”

 She saw Lexa look at it. She saw her eyes widen. Lexa's face flushed pink but at the same time, she gave a tiny barely there nod to say that she wanted it, that she would do it. At the same time, she brought her hands and wrists together in front of her.

 “Oh no,” Clarke chuckled, “not that simple.”

 Lexa's eyes went wide as Clarke tied first one end of the belt to one of Lexa's knees, and then the other end of the belt to Lexa's other knee. She then lifted the middle section of the belt and draped it around the back of the washer, pulling Lexa's legs back and opened wide, “there..” Clarke whispered into the dark. Lightening flashed outside. And for just a split second the lights flashed on and then instantly back on again inside the laundry room and for that second Clarke got a clear view of Lexa, spread for her and blushing...

 The lights went back out. But Lexa was just as beautiful, revealed to her only in flashes of lightning from the storm outside. Clarke wet her lips as she looked at her and she finally spoke what she had been thinking, “you're beautiful like this.” it was reminiscent of Lexa's earlier words when Clarke had been in a similarly prone position.

 Lexa's head rolled back to rest on the washing machine controls. Her eyes fluttered closed. Clarke just smiled at her, and then started scratching one nail up the inside of one exposed thigh, and then down the other. She smirked as Lexa squirmed. Clarke put a hand on each spread open knee and started nipping her teeth at the tender flesh of the insides of parted thighs.

 “Oh...” Lexa panted and squirmed up on the washer. Her hands scrambled to hold onto something but only went to her own small breasts and squeezed. Clarke choked, watching this. Lexa squeezed again. Clarke moved her mouth up a thigh, up and up and up it at a crawling pace over slicked wet skin until her lips were only an inch from Lexa's clit on proud display for her. Clarke licked it with the tip of her tongue--

 Lexa convulsed. She grunted, or groaned out Clarke's name and instantly fisted her hands into Clarke's hair and shoved her face down and started rutting up into it. Clarke smiled and started sucking on the trembling little clit, pulling it through her lips. This is why she had not tied Lexa's hands up. So Lexa could hold her face down, like this. She toyed at Lexa's wet opening with her tongue, tasting it, sucking at it...

 “Klark......” it was a strangled whisper.

 Clarke looked up with her eyes, tongue still inside Lexa, to find her Goddess was trembling with the tension wracking her beautiful body.

 She could not take any more. Clarke stood. She leaned in over the trembling body under her, brushed her mouth over Lexa's lips, and stared into her eyes as she shoved two fingers deep as she could inside her.

 She started fucking her. Hard as she could.

 Lexa's teeth locked, as she did. Her lips curled, as she did and a hissing sound escaped her mouth, biting back probably a lot of screaming, as Clarke desperately fucked her; in and then out, in and then out again, liquid spilling out with them and wetting Clarke's wrist. She kissed Lexa's forehead. She sucked at her small bouncing breasts, “you're beautiful, Lexa..” she said, her mouth full of hard nipple.

 “Klark!” Lexa did start to shout finally, starting with her name, “ Oh!” Clarke smiled against the nipple. She let it go. She moved up Lexa's squirming body until she was looking at her scrunched up face and closed eyes. Green eyes snapped open though the minute she curled her free hand around the back of Lexa's neck, the minute she pushed into Lexa's mouth, stopping her screams in the back of her throat. Clarke pulled her tongue out and pushed it back in, out and back in, as though trying to fuck her mouth--

 The trembling started first in Lexa's eyelids. The dropped closed quickly, her hands at the same time, tightening on Clarke's head. The humping of Lexa's hips against her hand grew more urgent, quick, and desperate, with seconds where Lexa would hold her hips locked high off the washer as though trying to milk the pleasure she was getting from Clarke's fingers.

 The trembling moved into Lexa's pouty and swollen lips next. And this was Clarke's cue to pull out her tongue. She did so, But she held her face close to the side of Lexa's anyway, she curled her free arm protectively around the, now violently shaking form under her, “this is not a dream, Lexa...” Clarke licked at the column of her girlfriend's neck--

 She fucked her harder, shoving in a third finger just once.

 Lexa froze up. Her body went ridged and taunt under Clarke. A strangled noise left the mighty Commander's mouth, there on that washer, there under Clarke, there in a new life she came undone...

 Clarke slowed her fingers gently, to a more softer, assuring and languid in and out stroke. She kissed Lexa's neck as and sucked at it gently, helping her goddess of a girlfriend back down. The heaving of Lexa's chest slowed to soft little breaths. She felt hands scramble weakly down to her back to hold her. Then long eyelashes opened against the side of her face. Clarke lifted her head and looked down into the wet depths of beautiful green eyes staring up at her. She trailed a thumb across Lexa's cheek, “you okay?”

 Lexa just nodded at her. Clarke smiled softly, “I found you, Hotpoint.” she said softly.

 “No,” Lexa countered just as quietly staring up at her, “this time, I found you.”

 “Little druid this time, yeah?” Clarke smirked.

 “I actually am, Clarke.” Lexa answered with her normal matter-of-fact tone.

 “Oh?” Clarke glanced at the belt of her robe looped around the washer, “is this like, some World of Warcraft, thing? You change shapes?”

 “Clarke,” Lexa scolded, “World of Warcraft is a game.”

 “Yeah, but you know what it is?” Clarke asked in interest.

 “Well,” Lexa flushed and admitted, “a game I ..happen to be very good at?”

 “Yeah?” Clarke asked again, and chuckled despite herself, “You're always a nerd.” she accused.

 “I am not.” Lexa argued staring up at her, “I mean ..I am a Commander.”

“Okay so, a Druid, yeah?” Clarke asked. Lexa nodded. Clarke then returned to the subject at hand, or at knees, as it was. She looked at her belt restraining Lexa and then down at her again with a smirk, “so if you're some powerful Druid why can't you even untie yourself?” 

\--==--

 Clarke opened her eyes.

 She was in her bed. In her home in the top floor of Gone Grounder's Tower. Morning light spilled beautifully in through windows she had left open. The sky was a beautiful blue outside. Birds were chirping as they squabbled with each other over the dish of seed she left out on the sill.

 But her heart sank. It sank more as she sat up and pushed back the white blankets of her bed.

 It was not real.

 She sighed, her heart aching.

 And she put her feet over the side of the bed and onto the cold floor. Clarke heard her phone start to buzz, somewhere in her bed. She must have fallen asleep last night with it. She ignored it though. She put her hand to her head and tried to ease the ache in her chest.

 Lexa.

So many times in her life, she dreamed of a girl called Lexa.

 So many of those dreams had seemed so real, as though they were memories that had happened, and not really dreams. They were dreams of other worlds though, other lives than here. But last night she had finally dreamed of her, here.

 Her dream-girl, Octavia and the others called Lexa. They would laugh at Clarke about her, and Clarke would laugh along with them, pretending not to feel the ache she always did when thinking of this girl.

She stood up, ache still in her chest. She wanted to go back to bed to at least dream of her again. But she couldn't. Today was too important to miss.

 She tugged open a drawer.

To her surprise, it was very nearly empty of anything she could wear today. There was a tank top in it, and some worn out socks and a pair of ripped black jeans. These were okay for a day out with friends or on stage but she could not wear this in front of a lot of people-- there was also a pair of gray sweatpants.

Then she remembered. She had been washing her clothes the night before. At least that part of that dream, was real. She must have left them. She must have gotten too drunk to finish. She must have come up here and passed out.Pulling on the tank and sweatpants she slipped on one white and pink sock and one white and blue sock with a cookie monster face on it because right now it was all she could find that was clean. Pulling on her trainers she left her home for its foyer, opted to take the elevator down instead of her usual choice of using the stairs. The Elevator felt crowded though, even if she was alone.

Pulling on the tank and sweatpants she slipped on one white and pink sock and one white and blue sock with a cookie monster face on it because right now it was all she could find that was clean. Pulling on her trainers she left her home for its foyer, opted to take the elevator down instead of her usual choice of using the stairs. The Elevator felt crowded though, even if she was alone.

But all she could think of --- was Lexa.

Someone like that who would have her spirit forever.

The Elevator dinged finally after the long trip down to the ground floor Level. It opened and she quickly made her way past all the curious and excited faces turning toward her, “Clarke! Clarke!” they called out. But she ignored them and made her way fast as she could toward the laundry room. The crowd tried to follow her. But her bodyguards stopped them quickly and she dashed through the laundry room door. The lights were already on though, and Pike, the janitor of the building, was crouched behind her washer, it's back was off and he was banging around inside it. She halted in surprise, “Pike?”

“Oh,” he pulled himself out of the machine, “Morning, Ms. Griffin. If you are looking for your clothes, I moved them. This washer,” he pushed back into it, “is broken, somehow...”

She blushed, bright red. She felt her face burning as though she had been caught even though what might have broken it had been a dream. The memory felt real anyway.

“Power storm last night broke it, maybe.” His hand pointed randomly out then around the corner of the machine, “your clothes are over there though, with your drink.”

“My ..drink?” Clarke asked. He mumbled some sort of affirmative and added, “your name's written on the label in marker anyway. Might be your loyals, though.” But she wasn't paying attention, anymore. She was already turning toward where he had been pointing. She saw the bottle of Skittles Vodka sitting right where she had left it first. But it was open.. and over half gone.

Maybe that was why she didn't remember how she got to bed.

“Hello, Clarke..” a soft voice said, from that direction.

It made Clarke's heart skip. It made her whirl to the voice. Her eyes fell on the speaker, a girl with brown hair tumbling loosely over one shoulder, a basket Clarke's folded laundry in her hands. Lexa. “You?” Clarke stammered anyway, “you know who I am?”

“I would know you in any life, Clarke.” the words were so sure, so calm. Clarke stumbled forward a step, “Lexa?” her eyes were wide as saucers in her face, she could feel them. Her blood raced in her veins. Her skin was cold with shock. A smile tugged at the edges of Lexa's lips.

Clarke rushed her the second it sank in, “Lexa!”

Lexa dropped the basket, the minute Clarke flung her arms around her. She buried her head into Lexa's chest and felt Lexa's arms tighten at her back. Clarke listened to be sure it was there, but it was, the beautiful, strong pound of Lexa's heart thudding like made against her ear. Then Clarke was choking on her own words as they tried to spill out, “how ..how did you?” She stepped back and looked at her again. This was Lexa, yes. Her Lexa. There was no makeup on her face, no black mask, but it was her, Clarke tangled her hands into dark hair, “how.. are you?..” the words trailed off suddenly. Because she didn't want to know. She didn't want her to go away again.

 Lexa pulled her back into her chest and hugged her close, “shhh..” she whispered against Clarke's ear, “I'm real.” Clarke felt Lexa's head tip back so her chin rested on her head. She felt her hands stroking up and down her back gently, “it's alright. Everything is alright now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a/n: please check out my Tumblr for **more** of my writing.)  
>  adistantstarblog.tumblr.com


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